November 30, 1863, 4:30pm.
Army Rail Depot, Nashville, Tennessee.

My Dear Friends,

I write this from the depot en route to Cincinnati, where I have promised my father and wounded brother a visit for the holidays before retiring to the refuge of the Willard in Washington. I hope this finds each and every one of you in good health and safe from the deprivations and suffering of this War.

The events of the last week will undoubtedly take their place among the great milestones of military history, certainly in the history of the present Rebellion. On the day following my last dispatch of the 24th, General Grant launched his main assault on Bragg's work atop Mission(ary) Ridge, southeast of Chattanooga, the forbidding crest from which his guns have glared menacingly down upon us for these two months. General Sherman was given the task of flanking Bragg's right, General Hooker the left, and General Thomas was charged with taking the center of the Confederate position.

All three wings met with initial resistance from the Johnnies, who held their ground stubbornly, particularly Cleburne's men at Tunnel Hill on the north end of the ridge (it is a pity we did not grab up this Cleburne at the beginning of the War, as he has become one of the enemy's most outstanding field commanders, in spite of his foreign birth and aversion to the Peculiar Institution). The work on all fronts was slow and tedious at first, with little gained and mounting casualties, as our gallant lads wrestled with the abatis and other Rebel obstructions, the irregular landscape, and the omnipresent Tennessee mud.

Then occurred one of the singularly most remarkable moments in this War to date. Without orders, several regiments of General Thomas's troops began to advance at a rapid pace up the slope of Mission Ridge, in the very face of the Rebel works. For some inexplicable reason (no doubt due in part to Bragg's persistent incompetence), the normally stalwart butternuts left their trenches and began to withdraw up the slope, perhaps intended as a move to strengthen their defenses at the top.

Our boys, however, took this as a sign of panic and retreat, and their blood was up. A manly shout, audible to all of us on Orchard Knob, arose from the blue ranks, and the colors fluttered up the hill, with brave hands lifting the flag when a Rebel aim on the color guard found its mark. Many of the Confederates, astonished at the bold courage of our men, simply remained in their trenches and lifted their muskets, butt first, as a sign of surrender. Others dropped everything and ran, some taking a bullet in the back. Through my field glasses (and a telescope graciously erected near General Grant's command tent for our use), I could make out some of the Rebel officers, vainly struggling to restrain their men, and solitary Confederates making a gallant but tragic last stand to defend their position. The Rebel artillery and muskets continued to fire their rain of lead, but many of the guns were overshooting, due to the degree of the incline and the speed of the advance.

General Grant, normally a man of marvelous composure, snapped at one of his aides, "Who ordered that charge?" and I heard the reply, "No one, Sir," and did not hear what the General responded, but I gathered that he soon held his breath with ours to await the outcome of this spontaneous assault. But before we could let out that breath, the charge was over, and Missionary Ridge was in Federal hands. A great cheer arose from the mountain, with some soldiers firing their own and the Rebels' guns in the air, and waving the captured Confederate colors in triumph. I looked immediately to General Grant, and noticed little change in his expression, except that I did see quite distinctly that his chest rose and fell in a sigh of relief, and he returned to his cigar as he issued orders to his courier.

This great and successful assault put an end to the siege of Chattanooga, and Bragg's army soon retreated into northern Georgia. I have heard from a telegraph operator that President Lincoln literally jumped for joy when he heard the news in Washington, much to the surprise of his Cabinet members. This great victory will surely confirm General Grant's place in the national imagination as the Man of the Hour, as it were, and we all fully anticipate a promotion in the wind, certainly as deserved as it has been overdue.

I have made some rough sketches of the assault, which I plan to complete and forward to our offices in New York during my winter hibernation at Willard's. Mr. Waud, my friend and colleague, will be engaged in similar artistic endeavors, as he has decided to complete a full painting on the subject of the Mission Ridge attack. Look to Harper's for the latest news on this campaign and those of the new year. May '64 bring an end to the Rebellion and a restoration of the Union, and a fulfillment of Mr. Lincoln's glorious words uttered at Gettysburg on the 19th - "a new birth of freedom" for our grand Republic.

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